Dysthymia
by obscureshadows
Summary: He thought that getting drunk would be the answer, but the memories came back. Warning: depression, suicide. I don't own Harry Potter :)


There was an undeniable throbbing behind his temples. His head was pulsing, his heart rate racing, his vision blurry. He raised the bottle to his lips once again, and took another swig of the firewhiskey. The half empty bottle dangled limply from his hand. He had rarely ever gotten wasted before. He never needed to be drunk to get a girl in bed with him. Sure, he was a bit of a party animal, but he stuck to his smooth talking. He never understood alcohol. He never had bothered with it before.

Now he knew better. Alcohol could make you forget. It could temporarily erase your scars, your past. You could be whomever you wanted to be. The foolish decisions and mistakes were a thing of the past, or rather until the effects wore off. He had not imagined in his wildest dreams that he would ever find himself in the situation that he found the need to get drunk.

He could feel the firewhiskey running through his system, working it's magic. Making him forget that she was gone. Her invigorating personality, her perceptive blue eyes, her fiery red hair - gone. Everything he had ever loved, ever cared about was slowly slipping away from his life. His grasp on reality was fading. He wasn't the suave Malfoy he was brought up to be. He wasn't the sweet Scorpius that would hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay. He could have stopped her.

* * *

"Scorpius?" Rose's voice floated through the fragrant spring air.

"Hmm..."

"I can tell you anything, right?"

Scorpius had been picking wildflowers lazily while lying in the tall grass. He handed Rose the flowers. "Of course. We are best friends after all."

Rose took a deep breath and prepared herself for what seemed to be important news. She gripped the bouquet of flowers tightly, knuckles white. "I went to a muggle doctor over the Easter holidays. I wasn't feeling very good. I didn't tell my parents because of their expected reactions. I couldn't sleep and felt tired all the time. I had felt sort of hopeless for a while, too. I didn't go to a wizard physician because they all know me, and then they would know if I had a problem, and then soon, everyone would know. The muggle doctor gave me a test." She paused. "They said that I have Dysthymia."

Scorpius could sense that this was probably something important, but honestly had absolutely no idea what dysthymia could be. "Which is...?" Scorpius asked.

Rose sighed. "Depression."

Scorpius froze. He very well knew what depression was. It couldn't be true. His poor, innocent, happy Rose couldn't be depressed. That was so wrong. She never even seem sad or anything. Thousands of thoughts were swirling in Scorpius's head. They were turning into a tornado. Rose was staring intently at him, gauging his response. It didn't make any sense. He then stood up, and gave Rose a hug. He patted her back, and whispered," It'll be okay. I'll always be there."

Rose sighed, and smiled. She wasn't alone. It would all be okay.

* * *

It wasn't working. The whiskey had worked at first, but the memories were flooding back. He didn't want to remember, it hurt too much. Why? He took yet another sip of the drink, sitting in the back of the grimy pub. The throbbing had gotten more intense. He closed his eyes wearily, leaned back, and slipped into another memory.

"I'm tired," Rose groaned. Her hand was unsteadily shaking as she buttered her toast. Only half her hair was brushed, and her eyelids drooped. Her books were falling out of her bag and she was yawing every two seconds.

"Someone didn't get her beauty sleep," Scorpius commented while sliding in beside her on the bench.

"I was up finishing all my work. Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms essays. Then, I just couldn't fall asleep."

Scorpius was confused. "You do realize that those essays aren't due for two more weeks, right?"

Rose nodded sleepily. "I just was so stressed. Everyone has such high expectations for me. I have to be perfect, all the time. I don't want to fail."

"You can't fail. It's physically impossible for Rose Nymphadora Weasley to fail. Don't worry. And remember, the only person you need to please is yourself. The only expectations you should have for yourself are the ones that you set. No one else matters. I like you just how you are. Nothing can change that." Rose just nodded and sighed.

The next day, Scorpius went to the library to look up dysthymia. He was concerned about Rose. She was acting kind of funny. Under symptoms, it clearly stated: "Avoidance of failure and stress. Withdrawal from daily activities and pastimes. Exhaustion or tiredness. Lack of ability to sleep."

* * *

Scorpius was dizzy. he waved over a bartender, and ordered another firewhiskey. His mouth had a sour taste and the edges of his vision were darkening. He rubbed his eyes drunkenly. The bartender returned with his drink. Scorpius swallowed hard. He took the bottle again.

* * *

The Common Room was warm. The fire was blazing in the hearth and candles lit the area. Snuggled on one of the couches was a redhead and a blonde, staring at the snowflakes swirling around outside. It was almost dark, the sky was tinged a pretty pinkish orange colour and wisps of clouds floated by. They were quite content, keeping each other warm and happy, laughing at funny anecdotes and memories of the good times. Then, out of the blue, the redhead asked a question.

"Do you think anyone would miss me if I died, right this moment?" Her eyes were glazed over, as if looking far into the distance. The blonde turned to look at her in surprise.

"Of course someone would miss you. Everyone would. Especially me. Life without you would be meaningless. Why in the world would you ask that?" His brows furrowed with confusion and worry.

The girl just shook her head sadly. "Never mind."

They both were silent, and fell asleep together on that couch, listening to the beats of each other's hearts.

* * *

Scorpius realized his plan to get drunk wasn't working. He slid off of his seat, slapped a couple of galleons on the table, and walked outside. The crisp autumn air made for perfect weather. The kind of weather she would've enjoyed, he recalled sadly. He was still drunk, and couldn't walk in a straight line, but pulled his leather jacket closer to himself, preserving body heat, and strolled the streets. The taste of alcohol still burned in his mouth, and he still couldn't see clearly. The undeniable headache hadn't faded in the slightest, either. He wandered the streets that they had wandered once, together. Now he was alone.

* * *

"I can't do this," Rose whispered, voice shaking with anxiety.

Scorpius gripped her hand tighter, and patted her back. "You are going to be amazing, I promise."

Rose nervously smiled at him in the cutest way, and slipped her hand out of his grasp and walked into the room.

After sitting in the Ministry for what seemed like hours, Rose emerged, smile on her face. "I got the job!" she screamed excitedly.

Scorpius broke out into a wide grin and picked Rose up and twirled her around. "I can't believe it, I'm so proud of you!"

And in that moment, time seemed to slow down, as their faces neared each others. Suddenly out of nowhere, they were kissing. Her lips were pressed against his, and it felt so natural, so right. It was amazing. They stopped thinking, simply feeling euphoric. When then they finally separated, both their cheeks were red with embarrassment. Scorpius shoved his hands into his jacket, and lowered his eyes. Rose looked lost for a few seconds, then shook her head and walked away.

Scorpius knew he should go after her, but something didn't feel right. He just sighed and apparated away. He would never forgive himself for that.

* * *

Scorpius felt sick. Puking on the sidewalk would probably not be the best idea, and it would be all over the tabloids tomorrow morning. He could already see the headlines. "Scorpius Malfoy, son of a death eater, throws up on sidewalk after drinking too much firewhiskey". Rose was the only one who ever truly saw him for himself, not as the son of an ex-death eater. The thought made him sad. He apparated to the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, where the famous Harry Potter's parents were buried. But that wasn't the reason he came. He walked to the back of the yard, the wind whistling in his ears. He knelt in front of a headstone.

Carved in rose granite, was the inscription. "Rose Weasley, loved daughter, friend, sister. Took her life at the age of twenty three. God bless Rose. RIP". Scorpius felt tears at his eyes. He felt the guilt return. He had been the only one who knew about her dysthymia. He thought he could help her out of it, but instead he let her kill herself. He broke down into tears, holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry Rose. I really am," he whispered sadly. With that he stood up uneasily, took a shaky breath, and walked out of the graveyard.


End file.
